Broken Glass
by theconsultingdreamer
Summary: Sam gets cut and hides a raging infection until he is extremely sick. Lots of Protective!Dean and Hurt!Sam and Sick!Sam


The day had been a successful one. The world now had one less werewolf, and neither of them suffered more than a few bruises. Night was falling as they made their way back to the Impala, and all was good. Until Sam collapsed.

"Sam!" Dean dropped to his knees beside his brother. "What's wrong?"

Sam's face was pale. His eyelids fluttered. "Dean?"

"Yes?"

"Don't feel good. Help me up."

"Come on, let's get you over to the car."

Dean reached down and took Sam's hand, pulling him up. He slid an arm around Sam's waist to steady him, and helped him over to the passenger seat. Sam leaned against Dean's shoulder.

Dean lowered Sam down into the car. Sam let his head fall back against the seat and groaned. "Damn, I'm sorry."

"For what? What's going on?"

He weakly grabbed the hem of his tee shirt and pulled it up to reveal his stomach. Three days ago, Sam had fallen onto broken glass while they were fighting a shape shifter. A long shard had pierced his side. Dean had clean it off and covered it, but now it was very obviously infected. "Shit, Sam."

"Sorry." Sam's tone was angry and embarrassed.

"I'm gonna have to clean it a bit and cover it. You're probably gonna need some penicillin."

He grabbed their makeshift first aid kit from the trunk and fished out a bottle of peroxide and some gauze. Sam's face was a waxy pale; Dean cursed himself for not catching on earlier that something was wrong. He wet the gauze with peroxide. "This is probably gonna hurt."

Sam gritted his teeth. "Just do it." Dean pressed the gauze to the gash. Sam hissed in pain and tightened his fists. He flinched, but Dean held him still. "I know, Sammy."

After a moment, he pulled away and dropped the used gauze to the ground. "Alright, I'm gonna wrap this up and we'll head it. It's about two hours to Bobby's place. Think you can make it?"

As he wrapped up Sam's cut, Dean replayed the last two days in his head. Sam had seemed off, going to bed early and barely touching his food. "You should've told me sooner."

Sam didn't say anything, but Dean understood. Ever since they were kids, Sam had always tried to be the tough guy. Though, trying to tough it out in silence is useless when you're on the floor, unconscious.

When Dean stood up, Sam's face was still pale, but his eyes were clear as he looked up at his brother. Dean got into the driver's seat and started the car. "Come, let's get out of here."

Sam had been pretty quiet since they had left the park 45 minutes ago. Dean had been trying to make small talk, mainly just to keep Sam awake. He didn't want Sam to fall asleep and not be able to wake him. Other than being sullen and annoyed, he seemed to be doing ok. After a few moments of silence, Dean glanced over to where his brother was slumped against the window. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine."

After a pause, he added, "It hurts. I feel like shit."

"Well, duh." Dean's tone was light. He knew Sam hadn't counted on this. The radio played quietly in the background as they drove on.

Dean noticed Sam's breathing getting a little heavier. "Sam? You ok?"

Sam nodded, but barely a minute passed before he said, "Pull over."

"What?"

"Pull over!"

Dean swung the car over to the shoulder. They had barely stopped moving when Sam threw open the door and stumbled a few feet before dropping to his knees and becoming violently ill. Dean jumped out of the car and ran to grab Sam's shoulders, holding him up. With his free hand, he rubbed Sam's back. "It's ok Sammy. Let it out. It's ok, it'll pass soon."

Once Sam was finished, Dean helped him back into the car and peeled back the bandage to look at the cut. It was an angry red, swollen, with a bit of pus. Dean made a face. Sam was breathing heavily. "Sit tight, I'm gonna call Bobby."

Leaving Sam slumped in the seat, he pulled out his cell and dialed the familiar number. "Hey, Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Sam's pretty sick. He's got a cut on his side that's all infected. He isn't doing so great."

"How far out are ya?"

"About an hour."

"I'll see what I can do."

Dean flipped his cell shut and made his way over to where Sam was laying. "I've got some water, you should drink it."

Sam didn't look at him. "I don't know if it'll stay down."

"It's worth a try. I don't want you getting dehydrated."

Sam took small sips of the water as Dean slid back into the driver's seat. He pulled the blanket up from the back when he noticed Sam shivering. "You've got a fever."

"Comes with the infection."

Sam sipped some more water and sat for a moment, wrapped up in the blanket. Dean watched him carefully. "Is it staying down?"

Sam nodded and pulled his door shut. Dean started the engine, and they headed off again.

This time, Dean didn't bother with small talk. Sam drifted off into an uneasy sleep after a while, curling up in the blanket as much as he could with a seatbelt on. When Dean looked at his brother, he no longer saw a 27 year old man. He saw a sick little boy, and it made his chest ache. Dean had always been his little brother's protector, and even now, it still hurt him to see his Sammy like this.

He reached over and brushed Sam's hair from his face. His forehead was burning up. Rather than wake him up, Dean turned on the air conditioning. They weren't far from Bobby's house now.

Sam was still out cold when they pulled into Bobby's driveway. Dean shook his arm carefully. "Sam. Hey Sammy, we're here."

Sam opened his eyes and looked at him blearily. "Ok."

Dean walked around to help Sam up. Sam put his arm around Dean's shoulder, and Dean hooked his arm around his little brother's waist to support him. Bobby opened the front door as they headed up the porch steps. "I found some penicillin tablets, we'll give him some of those and take him to a doctor in the morning if he needs it."

"Thanks Bobby," Dean said. He got Sam over to the couch and laid him down. Sam's eyelids fluttered again. "Dea?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Stay."

Dean eased himself onto the couch and pulled Sam onto his lap. The burn on Sam's fever was like a furnace. He gently stroked Sam's hair like he used to when they were kids, and Sam was sick. "Let's get you feeling better."

Bobby came over with a glass of water and a couple tablets. "Alright, Sam, here you go."

Sam lifted his hand weakly and took the pills. He propped himself up to swallow them with the glass of water Bobby offered, and laid back down. "Alright, both of you get some rest now."

Dean leaned back against the cushions, his hand still resting protectively on Sam's head. In a voice that let Dean know that he was almost asleep, Sam whispered, "Good night, Dea."

"Good night Sammy."


End file.
